by Sean Davies
“You did this to me,” Alice said to Winston, wide-eyed with madness.
“Knock off the theatrics,” Veronica replied angrily. “We know you’re just the Archmage in disguise.”
“Am I?” the cyborg version of Alice asked in an amused tone.
Winston opened fire without warning and bolts of condensed lightning burst out of his silver pistols, but the projectiles washed over Alice like water off a duck’s back. Then his pistols disappeared completely, along with Veronica’s rifle.
“Year ten science class,” Alice began in a smug male voice. “You sketched those pistols in the second from last page of your textbook, right after you’d finished gawping at Jenny D’Amour’s backside. The subject of the lesson was the distillation of DVO, taught by Miss Julianus… I can tell you exactly what was on the blackboard, if you want? Your mind is my mind. How long is it going to take you to figure that out, Winston?”
“The hell it is,” Veronica roared, lifting the throne off the floor with her telekinesis. “Winston, quick!”
Winston blasted the massive lump of gold with two bursts of force magic, sending it hurtling towards Autocrat Eve at an alarming speed. The throne smacked into her mechanical form and carried Alice right through the window behind, sending her flying into Imperia City’s sky.
“Phew, good work,” Veronica sighed with relief.
Winston shook his head in disbelief. “No, that was too easy… look!”
The windows of the chamber became clouded with static, including the broken one that Alice had been flung through, until the city outside was completely obscured. A loud buzzing rang through the room, increasing in volume until Winston and Veronica were in physical pain, and then, to their great relief, everything fell silent. The fuzzy fog disappeared from the windows, and the couple saw that Imperia City had been replaced with the smouldering, corpse-littered ruins of Central Isle
“No, I don’t want to be here,” Winston shuddered. “I did this… I killed them all!”
“Snap out of it, sweetie,” Veronica said reassuringly, tapping her husband’s helmet lightly. “The Archmage is just messing with you.”
“But the real scenario didn’t play out much better, did it?” the snooty voice boomed, so loudly that the contents of the chamber rattled. “How many people died the night you sent Mortissa, Kelpbeard, and a host of Alts out of the Gloom and onto Central Isle, Winston? Was that part of Fate’s divine will, too? Or is it all okay, because you built them a lovely little cathedral?” the voice roared mockingly.
Winston’s armour disappeared, and he fell to his knees in despair. “He’s right. I didn’t have to do that… I…”
Veronica yanked him off the floor and forced him to stare into her visor. “Look at me! If you hadn’t arranged that attack and had Edgar Aurelius II killed, then he would’ve tried exterminating every Supernatural on Mydia. Your plan hurt the Inquisition, but if you hadn’t then countless Vampires, Werewolves, Mages, and Book Wielders would’ve been wiped out, just like we saw in this version of Imperia…” She trailed off, feeling as though there was a connection to be made in everything they’d witnessed up to that point.
“I’m glad you’re finally starting to see things my way, Veronica,” the voice rumbled. “She’s right, Winston—all of that guilt you feel is worthless. It’s holding you back, making you weak, clouding your mind from your true limitless potential! Acting in your own self-interests is nothing to be ashamed of. You’re the one with the power and the intelligence to lead Mydia into the future! Just let go…”
“Let go…” Winston repeated in a daze, turning transparent.
Veronica was completely bewildered, and struggled to understand the motives behind the mysterious speaker’s actions; all she knew was that her Winston was in danger, so she grabbed her ghostly husband and slapped him hard. The gesture had the effect she desired, and Winston snapped back into awareness, regaining his composure and his form.
“Thanks,” Winston said to Veronica. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m so confused…”
“Don’t think about it now, we’ll figure this out later,” Veronica reassured him, equally clueless and hungry for answers.
“I thought we were all making progress,” the voice rattled softly. “I’m so very disappointed in you both.”
“Why don’t you come out where we can see you, and we’ll carry on kicking your ass—whatever form you take on!” Veronica shouted madly.
“Damn right!” Winston yelled, pulling his lighter out of his hoodie and manipulating its flame into a blazing fireball.
“You just don’t get it,” the male voice laughed, as the entire building shook.
A gargantuan robotic head, in the shape of a furious white mask with burning triangular golden eyes, rose upwards into full view of the building’s floor-to-ceiling windows, and the eyes flashed with intensity as they locked onto the couple within.
“Regretting what you said?” Winston asked his wife, tripling the size of his fireball.
“A bit,” Veronica admitted in terrified awe, as she watched the giant mechanical head rise out of view, revealing a gun-littered torso beneath. “So much for using realism.”
“It’s gone beyond that now,” Winston replied knowingly. “We’re both getting desperate to win. The gloves are well and truly off.”
The Reynoldses struggled to stay on their feet as the ginormous battle suit took a few steps backwards, revealing its armament-covered skyscraper-sized form in all of its threatening glory.
“That thing makes the Foreman’s colossus look pacifistic,” Winston gulped. “Maybe we can direct some of its attacks right back at it?”
“Good thinking,” Veronica nodded, steeling herself for a bloody battle. “We’ll go on the defensive until we can summon up some heavy weapons—shit, duck!”
Winston dropped to the floor as the battle suit swiped off the ceiling in one effortless sweep of its arm, and covered his head as he was showered in debris.
“You can fight me, and you can defeat my pawns,” the robot bellowed across the island, “but you can never win! This is my mind now as much as it’s yours, Winston Reynolds!”
“Fuck you, Omniosis!” Winston yelled, leaping to his feet and pelting an endless barrage of fire towards the titanic machine.
“It can’t kill us,” Veronica reminded herself, as she launched every object in the room that wasn’t bolted to the floor towards the robot. “It can’t kill us, or we’ll all go insane, Winston. We can use that to our advantage!”
Winston and Veronica’s meagre attacks were deflected by an invisible shield, and the battle suit laughed evilly.
“Just because I can’t kill you, doesn’t mean I can’t stop you from interfering!” Every missile hatch and tube on the robot’s chest, head, and shoulders flicked open simultaneously. “I just need for you to give up, and give into my will!”
“Barrier, quick!” Winston shouted, grabbing his wife’s armoured hand.
Veronica and Winston put all their power into creating a defensive magical bubble around themselves, just as thousands of missiles bombarded their position.
The endless rain of rockets didn’t detonate in fiery explosions or blasts of energy, but instead burst into blinding flashes, deafening bangs, powerful shockwaves, and dizzying gases. Try as they might, the Reynoldses couldn’t maintain their arcane barrier as the missiles ravaged their senses, and they fell to the floor dazed, fading in and out of consciousness, and completely paralyzed.
Veronica’s vision flickered between a sheet of sparkling stars and the throne room (which had been fully restored to the state it was in when they’d first entered), but she could make out enough to see that they were back in the dreamscape version of Imperia City, and that Autocrat Alice was standing above her and Winston, smiling victoriously.
The Autocrat was issuing orders to someone behind them, but Veronica’s ears were ringing, and she couldn’t make out what was being said.
The cyborg equ
ivalent of Alice seemed to notice the Vampire Bloodmage’s efforts to eavesdrop, so she lowered herself to the floor and spoke directly into her ear.
“If I can’t make you leave, then I’ll just have to find a way to convince you,” the fake Alice said in the smug male voice again. “Just like I’ll find a way to make your Winston join me. See you on the other side, dearest Veronica.”
Veronica blinked her eyes rapidly, trying desperately to recover as she was carried out of the building and loaded into the back of a van, dragged into a sterile-looking facility, and then thrown ungracefully into a bare metal cell. Veronica finally felt her body and mind respond and quickly picked herself up, ready to fight, just as a sturdy iron door slammed shut, leaving her in total darkness.
“Winston! Winston!” the Vampire called, fumbling for the door, and then a wall, but there was nothing. “Cherriesa? I could use a little help here!” she yelled, hearing her voice echo as if she were standing at the entrance of a deep cave.
Panicked, Veronica rushed frantically forward, and then backward, in a vain attempt to find the walls of the cell she knew in her heart were no longer there; she was all alone in a void of endless nothingness.
“Cherriesa! Winston! Is anybody out there?! I need to get out!” she screamed desperately at the sky.
Gigantic burning gold calligraphy in the black heavens above answered her cries for help, spelling out: ‘I’ll let you out when you give up’.
Chapter 10
Turning the Tide
Alice barely had time to deliver the Mayor and Arria to a completely bewildered Alexander before having to immediately leave again for Desem via the Catacombs. Fortunately, the trip was made a lot easier by the fact that Cherriesa was still tending to Winston and Veronica Reynolds as they attempted to gain the upper hand over the psychologically-imbedded remnants of the Archmage Omniosis, and was therefore too busy to hinder Alice’s passage through the tunnels with pointless security measures (purely to annoy her, of course).
The Lord Imperator had been informed that several low-key radio stations across the barren continent had been broadcasting a message from both Darkheart and Corriztis, informing everyone listening of their current target and calling Alice Eve out, using a train full of hostages as encouragement.
The Gallant—the former Nation of Industria's oldest and most luxurious steam train that was still in active service—had been commandeered by the terrorists on its evening run, and as such it was packed to the brim with regular commuters, tourists, and history fanatics.
Daedrian and Corriztis’ message had been brutally clear, stating that if Alice didn't board the train to speak with them then all of the passengers would be executed, while discouraging the notion of any action to halt the Gallant with the same callous threat.
Even though Alice was stressed, and tired to the point where the energy potions were beginning to lose their effect, she quickly thought up a plan to spin the dire situation into an opportunity to throw her enemies off guard, and ordered her people in Tropica to begin scouting the dense forests and jungles for the hidden Archmage City which Ricardo Stern had accidentally stumbled upon.
The Lord Imperator had dusted off an old plan she had once prepared for the Archmage Omniosis (before the War for Reality had taken an unexpected turn), and then brought the reluctant instructor Brooke Sienna back into active duty. They had met up with the excitable Book Wielder, Chloe O'Kelly, in a Justiciar outpost in north-east Desem, and together they boarded a light scouting airship, aiming to catch up with the Gallant and derail the latest terrorist attack before it became another one of the corruption Demon's foul experiments.
“I feel bad leaving Alex, especially after I told him he couldn't go with Constance and Genevieve,” Brooke complained as she followed Alice through the airship. “And the kids are with a sitter...”
“I wouldn't have asked unless I really needed you,” Alice said apologetically, for the hundredth time.
“I'm sure he's got his hands full keeping the Mayor and his living sex doll away from Cherriesa, so it's not likely he'll get bored or anything,” the ginger Book Wielder sniggered.
“Don't remind me about those two,” Alice groaned. The trip from Gloomingdale to Central Isle had been one of the most mentally draining experiences of her entire life. “Is your earpiece working, Brooke?”
“Yep, all good to go on your signal,” the sniper Werewolf Shaman said, tapping a small white device on her ear.
Alice's plan was to board the Gallant as it trundled down the Great Railway, wearing a small communication device underneath the collar of her breastplate that would allow Brooke to listen in on the conversation. The airship would then move away, far outside the maximum range of its standard weapon systems, giving the Demon and the psychic the impression that she was playing along; meanwhile, Brooke would be taking aim with an especially long-range Sanctium-loaded sniper rifle and waiting for Alice to scratch her nose. Her plan hinged on her loose understanding of Daedrian's psychic powers from their previous encounter, the ring of mental obfuscation Veronica had taken off her unconscious husband, and Brooke Sienna's excellent marksmanship. She knew that Corriztis’ main mass would be hidden away in Tropica, but her hopes were that she could at least rid Mydia of Daedrian Darkheart during these ‘negotiations'.
Alice led Brooke and Chloe to one of the airship’s side sections—the one which would be facing the Gallant once the operation began—and showed the sniper the stand-mounted rifle she would be using.
Instead of a big rear ramp that the larger airships had, the scout models relied solely on their openable side sections for entering and exiting the craft, and for cargo loading purposes. The sections also featured retractable manned heavy-weapon mounts; normally they’d be equipped with a pair of plasma miniguns, but Alice’s engineers had quickly replaced one set with the longest ranged guns they had at the outpost.
A male, black-haired Justiciar in light combat armour was inspecting the guns lovingly, double-checking that everything was in perfect working order before they were needed.
“This is trooper Michael Deal, the best marksman at Outpost Felix,” Alice said, formally introducing him to the others. “He’ll be backing you up, Brooke.”
“Nice to meet you, ladies. You can just call me Mikey-D,” he said, eagerly shaking the Book Wielder and Brooke’s hands. “That’s a nice outfit, Chloe…” he added, checking out the redhead with very little subtlety.
Alice remained in her power armour, having removing it only briefly for a turbo shower back in Jonathan’s Catacomb living quarters before heading to Desem. Brooke was sporting her smart black and white uniform, and Chloe O’Kelly had chosen to wear her Conclave greatcoat over a lacy black crop-top and a short black miniskirt, along with a pair of sensible black boots.
“Thanks, hun,” Chloe replied with a cheeky smile, before shooting Alice a stroppy look. “I’m glad someone appreciates my fashion sense.”
Alice rolled her white eyes. The Book Wielder was still mad at her for not being included in the Gloomingdale trip, even though the Lord Imperator had stressed that she would have gladly swapped places with Chloe if it had been an option at the time.
“These are more like little cannons than sniper rifles,” Brooke mused, assessing the weapons. “They make my antimaterial rifle look like a peashooter.”
“They handle just like a standard rifle,” Mikey-D assured her. “All the extra flash is mostly for the range, although the scopes do give you additional aiming information, and can switch between different filters if you click these buttons at the side,” he explained, pointing them out to the Werewolf sniper.
“Nice…” Brooke said appreciatively, nodding her bald head in approval as she gave the scope a try for herself.
“I had the designs drawn up during my plan to have you assassinate the Archmage Omniosis,” Alice said, glad that Brooke liked the hardware.
“They’re brilliant for taking out rampaging Rock Trolls without having to worry
about getting smacked in the face by their boulders,” Mikey-D said, patting the rifle beside him like it was a loyal pet.
“Anyone else miss the days when most of these monsters and magical creatures only existed in fantasy tales?” Brooke smirked.
“Meh, not really. It keeps things interesting,” the fearless Chloe shrugged nonchalantly.
“Lord Imperator, we’re coming up on the Gallant now,” the pilot announced through the PA system.
“Right, let’s get our asses in gear!” Chloe said, clapping her hands together excitedly.
“For the last time—you’re staying up here to help defend the ship, unless I specifically call for you,” Alice groaned.
“You’re going to need me, Ali. Let me come? Please?” the pretty Book Wielder pleaded with big puppy-dog eyes.
“Sorry, I’m going in alone, and that’s my final decision on the matter, O’Kelly,” Alice said sternly as she tapped the hatch controls, causing the side of the airship to slide open.
They were flying directly over the Mega Highway’s many lanes, jam-packed full of rush hour traffic speeding towards Neo Industria on one side and away from the bustling metropolis on the other. Running parallel to the highway was the multi-tracked Great Railway, and chugging north-west to its final stop in the city of Beachhead One was the proud old Gallant, its passenger cars and unattractive cargo carriages trailing at the very rear.
The steam train combined the old Nation of Industria’s sturdy craftsmanship with an incredibly detailed silver hull lined with fancy goldwork, which had been painstakingly handcrafted by the continent’s best smiths of the age. The Gallant’s reinforced form had been the inspiration for the Industrian Landship tank in the early days of the Great War, and the very first models had shared the same beautifully intricate metalwork over their armour as a way of boasting the Nation’s technological and engineering prowess to the invading Imperians. Even after the Nation of Imperia had occupied the entirety of Desem, the conquerors took great care of the famous train, although they had their own metalsmiths and artists carefully replace every rendition of the Desem banner with their own.